


Stranger Things Have Happened

by fishaquarium



Category: Deadly Premonition | Red Seeds Profile, Twin Peaks
Genre: Gen, POV Alternating, Satire, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23988520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishaquarium/pseuds/fishaquarium
Summary: Cooper and York strike up an odd but strangely fulfilling friendship as their lives intersect at different points in time.
Relationships: Dale Cooper & Francis York Morgan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. THE STREETS OF PHILIDEPHIA – COOPER

**Author's Note:**

> Couple of points (spoiler heavy for canon DP):  
> 1\. Cooper is about three years older than York in this and though logically he'd be a lot older I'm just gonna pretend this is how their timelines would match up. So it takes place kinda in the middle of how the timelines would actually be.  
> 2\. For Coop's perspective, he'll see York as 'Zach,' but York will see himself as 'York' like in the games. So keep in mind York's an unreliable narrator.  
> 3\. Content rating is for later when they get into cases, which may be described in gory detail. If anything else comes up, I'll add it.  
> 4\. Title is from the Foo Fighters song 🤘

The first time Cooper saw him was his senior year of high school.

Cooper was walking home from school with his Norelco B2000 clutched tightly in one hand, speaking lowly into it about his day. At approximately 9:34 that morning, Mrs. Benson of their history class had stated that George Chapman, aka Seweryn Kłosowski, was the likely perpetrator of the Whitechapel murders. Cooper had argued that no, he very much doubted so based on the overwhelming studies he’d done into the subject that suggested Jack the Ripper was, indeed, a subject not aforementioned in history.

At 9:52 that morning Cooper had been sent to the principal’s office after refusing to let the point go. He’d passed some time arguing with the principal until the exasperated man had sent him to math class with no apparent resolution to their argument. It had been a rather fun debate.

Math class was a breeze that led into lunch at 12:00, where Cooper had opted to sit in the shade of a tree outside the school rather than in the cafeteria. He’d eaten a delicious pastry from the local bakery combined with a cup of black coffee and then…

“The rest of the day was uneventful,” Cooper concluded, swallowing back the rest of the words he’d almost spoken into his personal diary. It wasn’t that he was ashamed, it was just… Years from now, he wouldn’t need to listen to a tape to remember how many days he’d spent thinking about Marie and her silver coffin.

“And now that school’s over, I think I’ll go to the library and read over more cases,” the boy informed his future self. “When I’m an FBI agent, I’d like to have a formative background on… on…”

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the other boy who would mix with his world in weird and unimaginable ways in the years to come.

The one he’d later find out was named ‘Special Agent Francis Zach Morgan, but please call me Zach because everyone does’ was skateboarding down the street with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips and a cassette player in one hand. He was a tall and scrawny kid who looked to be about fourteen, but with the confidence of someone much older.

“We have to hurry, York,” the boy called out to no one in particular, pressing the fingers of his free hand to his temple. “I swear if we miss the opening act moshpit before the concert, I’ll lose it… You too, huh?”

Cooper blinked, lowering his recorder for the first time since he’d gotten out of class to stare. It wasn’t just the odd way the boy was acting and the fact that someone so young was apparently on their way alone to what Cooper imagined was the Ramones concert happening tonight. It wasn’t just the way he was dressed – though the ripped jeans, combat boots, studded leather jacket, Ramones crop top, and studded choker were certainly eye-catching. It wasn’t even just the heavy eyeliner, spiked hair, and excess of bandages covering what appeared to be bruises.

It was the _scar_. A large, pink puckered-looking slash that ran from the top of his orbital socket all the way into the milk white of his hair. Something had very clearly happened for someone so young to have such white hair and Cooper would bet a year’s worth of coffee that it involved the scar. He was immediately interested – Coop could never resist a mystery – however sadly it was a situation of one those random fascinating strangers you passed by but never learned the story of.

For a single moment before it was over, the kid threw Cooper a glance. Their eyes met and the boy’s mouth twisted in a sardonic smile as he lifted a hand and flashed the universal punk rocker hand sign.

“Good afternoon!” the boy yelled, voice loud presumably over whatever was blaring through his headphones. “Did you know Sheena is a punk rocker?”

Jumping up to a complete a wobbly kickflip, the kid took a drag of his cigarette, yelled something else unintelligible that ended with ‘York,’ and cut across four lanes of traffic to go careening down the other sidewalk.

Cooper kept staring long after the boy was gone, thoughtful as his mind dreamt up a myriad of possibilities as to what could turn a child’s hair white. He’d learned from a true crime novel early on that it was possible if a person was under an incredible amount of stress, though of course it wasn’t like in the movies where it turned white immediately.

“I’ve just seen the most interesting person,” he told his recorder, slowly coming back to reality as he brought it up to his mouth. “I doubt I’ll ever see him again, but he certainly was a mystery. If you’re listening to this now, I wonder if you still recall today and all the details I noticed. What are your theories on…”

He continued talking as he made his way to the library. It had been a brief and memorable introduction, but as of then he hadn’t even known Zach’s name. That wouldn’t come until nearly three years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ROADHOUSE SONG](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yCW7Aw8ugOI)


	2. THE MENTAL HOSPITAL – YORK

“Don’t you think they’re overreacting, Zach? I really don’t know why we need to be here.”

York sat cross-legged in the chair the nurse had set up for him, staring out the tightly sealed window at the sea of cars in the parking lot of the mental hospital. So many crazy people, it seemed, but if even a quarter of them were in the same situation as him then they weren’t as ‘crazy’ as this ward would have everyone believe.

“I know _I’m_ not crazy,” York stated aloud, bringing his fingertips to his temple as his eyes fuzzed over and he reflected inwards. “Maybe they think you are, Zach. But even if that was true, we’ve been model students. Just because we dress like punk rockers it doesn’t mean we’re juvenile delinquents. It’s a good style.”

Zach mostly agreed with him, only protesting about the teachers thinking he was the crazy one. Neither of them were crazy, and if the teachers just left them alone and stopped getting on York’s case for talking to Zach then things would be fine.

The door opened and York dropped his hand to straighten his posture and observe the two walking into the room. First was clearly the psychiatrist – a woman who appeared to be about forty wearing a clean-cut pantsuit and bespectacled by the oversized glasses that was now the style. The second…

York’s eyebrow quirked as the young man who couldn’t have been much older than him ducked into the room, eyes sparkling with interest and curiosity as he looked around at the sterile, whitewashed office. Something else, as well, when that gleeful gaze turned to look at York. Was it recognition?

“Hello, Francis,” the psychiatrist led with, a chart folded neatly into the crook of her elbow. “My name is Dr Johnson and I’m the psychiatrist who’ll be conducting your intake today. I’d like you to meet Dale Cooper as well – he’s currently an intern interested in learning how to conduct interviews. Do you mind if he sits in?”

“Of course. That’s fine. And… Please, call me York. That’s what everyone calls me,” York replied, stretching out his hand. His palm met with Mr. Cooper’s first and it was like a sudden shock passed between them. For a second York felt unsteady and the strangest image of a red curtain rippled before his eyes before he quickly withdrew his hand. Cooper appeared to have had the same vision, because he was blinking rapidly and looking around as if he’d been jerked out of a dream.

“Zach, something weird just happened,” York murmured, turning half away as he spoke to his best friend. “Did you feel that too?” Zach had. He didn’t understand it either.

“York?” Dr Johnson asked, her voice going from businesslike to gentle, as if speaking to a wild animal. York turned back to her and Cooper, arching a questioning brow. Cooper sat down heavily in the rickety plastic chair beside the one Dr Johnson had just taken, bewilderment clear on his face.

“I apologize. I just needed to confirm something. You may proceed.”

Dr Johnson nodded and cleared her throat, rearranging her pantsuit and opening the folder in front of her. She traced a finger down the paper and York kept a close eye on her face, noticing a tightening at the corner of her eyes – the only giveaway of any emotion before she shut the chart and assembled it neatly on the cheap metal desk in front of her.

“Do you know why you were sent here?” she began, using that same gentle tone.

“Yes. From what I understand it’s because my teachers believe I hear voices.”

“And do you?”

“Not in the manner they suggest. I communicate with Zach and only Zach. He’s my best friend who’s been with me since I was a child. I’m not a crazy person, I just talk with Zach.”

“York, we don’t believe anyone is crazy here and we don’t use that term, either. People here have mental illnesses, which are the same as any physical illness except – ”

“I’m not mentally ill.” York resisted rolling his eyes; people simply couldn’t understand. “Now, from what I understand, you can only complete the intake if I’m a danger to myself or others, is that correct? I don’t want to kill myself and I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Me and Zach speaking doesn’t negatively impact my quality of life or anyone else’s. Zach doesn’t tell me to do horrible things. I came to straighten that out because I was threatened with school suspension if I didn’t, and I’d like to finish out the year. I’m going to become an FBI agent like my father, so not finishing is unacceptable.”

“You too?” Cooper suddenly asked, surprising both York and Dr Johnson. He looked to have recovered from whatever had passed between him and York and was now perched on the end of his seat, a huge grin splitting his face. “It must be fate, us meeting. I’d also like to join the FBI. I’m sure that’s the reason you’re here.”

York considered it, silently consulting with Zach before nodding once. “Possible,” he remarked, eyeing Cooper in a new light. “I’d have to consult my coffee to be sure.”

“While that’s one explanation,” Dr Johnson commented, trying to sound neutral in an attempt to get the conversation back on track as she shot a warning glance at Cooper. “Another is that York would like a listening ear for him to talk about what happened to his parents when he was younger.”

Cooper was sitting so far on the edge of his seat now that he was practically falling off of it, oblivious to the doctor’s look.

York’s lips parted to say something but whatever it was got lost in a splitting headache resulting from Zach’s wave of emotion. Though the pain had numbed somewhat through the years, it had never left, and it was still too early for Zach for York to discuss it with anyone. Particularly a stranger.

“No.” York said instead, getting to his feet and shrugging on the acid-washed jean jacket he’d placed neatly on the back of his chair. “You’re completely wrong, Doctor. And I need to get back to school. This was an… enlightening experience, however I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”

He started towards the door and was prepared to leave until some part of him made him pause, turning back to examine the young man with the slicked-back dark hair. Dale Cooper. Future FBI agent. A person York had gotten the strangest sense of foreboding from when they’d shook hands. A person who was now staring at him with a look so intense it made Zach nervous.

“How did you get that scar?” Cooper asked after a long pause, the air between them virtually crackling with mutual curiosity. There was something about Cooper…

“When we’re both FBI agents, I’ll tell you,” York answered, tapping his chest absentmindedly. “For the price of a coffee.”

“Deal,” Cooper confirmed, leaping to his feet and crossing the room in two strides to shake on it. York took Cooper’s hand tentatively but this time there were no visions. Only the kind of solemnity that came when one commits to a great promise.

They shook on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ROADHOUSE SONG](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJH24ktbsFo)


End file.
